<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>That’s Tommy, Innit? by miidniight</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27781138">That’s Tommy, Innit?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/miidniight/pseuds/miidniight'>miidniight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The World as We Know It [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>? kind of, Adoption, Alternate Universe, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Minor Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:36:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27781138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/miidniight/pseuds/miidniight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy was three when a man with wings pulled him from the ruins of his home.</p><p>(Or Tommy’s backstory for the AU I’ve begun to develop.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave | Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade &amp; Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s), Philza &amp; Dave | Technoblade, Philza &amp; Wilbur Soot, Philza &amp;TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The World as We Know It [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>580</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>That’s Tommy, Innit?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>not based off of much, more of an original thing. in my au all the sbi kids are adopted. enjoy :)!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Tommy was three, his life fell apart around him.</p><p>His mom had given him three rules (and he had remembered because three was just as many as he was) to follow before she had tucked him away in a small cabinet that was too dark for his liking with nothing but her bandana tied around his neck and a kiss to his brow.</p><p>Rule #1: Don’t leave, no matter what he hears, until somebody found him.</p><p>Tommy had heard a lot. He had heard crashes and screaming and icky noises of something squishy being squelched between fingers. He had his mom’s desperate cries and pleas for help and the sound of groaning and moaning and a strange howling shriek that finally made him cover his ears and screw his eyes shut to wait for it to pass.</p><p>Rule #2: Stay quiet.</p><p>This rule had been the hardest for Tommy, who would rather babble about anything and everything. He liked being loud, liked the way it felt in his throat and his chest. It stretched his lungs out and made his breaths big and full, let everyone know just how he was feeling. For Tommy, being loud was like a game - how loud could he get before his mom told him to stop?</p><p>His mom had made this a game too, with a choked whisper telling him that if he could stay quiet until someone (not her, just someone) could come, he would win and be the best at the game. Tommy, being Tommy, told her he could do that. After all, he was always the best. Tommy was the fastest runner, the loudest shouter, <i>and</i> the tallest out of all the other children in his village.</p><p>Rule #3: Knock three times (“Three just like the rules and just like you Tommy!”) when it was quiet again until someone came to find him.</p><p>It had taken a long time for silence to settle over his house. Tommy waited for forever and ever for the strange dragging footsteps to finally leave, for the screams to stop making his head hurt and his heart beat too fast. </p><p>Once it fell across the room like a thick blanket, Tommy began to knock.</p><p>And knock.</p><p>And knock.</p><p>And knock and knock and knock and knock.</p><p>He cried, stifling the sobs against his knees, because if he broke any of the rules then he wouldn’t win - especially the quiet rule. Tommy’s stomach grumbled and his neck ached because of how he had fallen asleep in the slightly cramped space, but he just kept knocking, just like his mom had told him to.</p><p>Sometime after Tommy had passed out the second time, tuckered out from the sheer amount of tears that had flown from his eyes like twin waterfalls down his cheeks, he had awoken groggily to the sound of rustling. At first, he froze, remembering his mom’s words to knock only when he couldn’t hear anything. But it had been so long, and Tommy just wanted to leave, not caring if he lost. Sniffling, he tapped his slightly chafed and pink knuckles against the wood of the cabinet door, three times just like the rules and just like him.</p><p>The rustling stopped for a long while, and Tommy wondered if whatever it had been left. Still, he knocked again, hand smarting as he dragged his fingers down the slightly rough surface. Slow footsteps headed towards his hiding spot before the door crept outward, bit by bit. Tommy winced, crying out at the crack of light that hit his pupils, using his hands to cover his face.</p><p>“Oh my God,” whispered a low voice. Tommy squinted against the blinding sunlight to see the outline of a green and white hat that hung above a kind face. Something (did the person have wings like a giant bird?) spread behind the person, blocking what was streaming into Tommy’s little hidey-hole. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s your name?”</p><p>“Did I win?” Tommy disregarded the question as he rasped out his own, voice thin and raw from disuse and how much he had been crying. He ignored the confused look the man gave him in favor of staring into his blue eyes and asking, again, “Did I win th’game? C’you ask my momma if I won?”</p><p>His savior’s face crumpled momentarily, long enough that Tommy thought to himself, <i>I lost…</i> But the bird-man’s expression picked back up into a smile that confused Tommy because his gaze was so sad. “Yeah, you won bud. Do you want me to help you out?”</p><p>Tommy nodded, for once not wanting to speak. Everything hurt, especially his throat. He just wanted some water and sleep.</p><p>“Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to take that bandana around your neck and put it over your eyes so they don’t hurt when we get out, okay?”</p><p>Nodding again, Tommy leaned forward so the large, somewhat rough hands could undo the knot and pull it up to Tommy’s face. The material was soft, comforting, and smelled like his mom. It was a warm mixture of sugar and the flowers she liked to keep around the house - little things with purple tops - that would, later in life, dance on the fringe of his memories as a scent that gave him comfort without Tommy ever being sure why.</p><p>“I’m going to pick you up now.”</p><p>Sure enough, seconds later there were arms under Tommy’s armpits, gently tugging him out of the cabinet and swooping him up to be cradled against a wide chest swathed in soft fabric. Tommy gripped it tightly in tiny fists, exhaustion and residual fear making his body tremble in the man’s grasp.</p><p>“My name is Phil,” Tommy heard from above him, the voice coming from the chest underneath him in soothing rumbles, “I’m going to take you back to my house where you can get some sleep and food, okay?”</p><p>“M’kay. ‘M Tommy,” Tommy whispered, already beginning to drift off into the land of dreams once more, “Jus’ gotta tell my momma.”</p><p>There was a quiet sigh, a consoling rub of a hand down his back, and the sound of footsteps crunching across the floor of Tommy’s house. His last thought before sleep caught him in its waiting arms, was that his house had never been crunchy before.</p><p>Tommy woke up to the sound of people who were trying to talk quietly, but failing. Furtive whispers of an argument that had clearly been going for a while went in one ear and out the other as Tommy sat up and rubbed at his eyes, head foggy and still aching dully. His eyes remained closed as he gave a squeaky little yawn and drooped his head to his chest.</p><p>“Look what you did,” said a slightly higher pitched tone, a hiss undercutting every syllable of their words, “You woke him up!”</p><p>“Oh right,” came the monotonous reply, “Because this is entirely my fault and no one else’s.”</p><p>Sleepily blinking his eyes open, the first thing Tommy saw was a fireplace full of flickering, crackling tongues of red and gold that sparked occasionally. Heat billowed off of it in delightful waves that only served to enhance the drowsiness that swum around his head. The second was a boy a little bit away with <i>very</i> pink hair.</p><p>That woke Tommy up promptly.</p><p>With excitement in his eyes, he reached a hand out to touch the brightly colored locks, not realizing how close he was to tipping off of the edge of the bed he had been gently placed on until he was tumbling head first towards the floor. Suddenly there was a rush of movement and hands grasping his shoulders. Tommy looked up to see a boy with brown curls and deep brown eyes. The furrow of worry was replaced by a scowl that showed a missing front tooth.</p><p>“Be careful. You almost fell, stupid.”</p><p>“You’re ‘tupid,” Tommy shot back immediately, not knowing what it meant but having a feeling it wasn’t a good thing. Something scaly and uncomfortable stirred in his chest at the look the brown-haired boy gave him - as if there was something wrong with Tommy.</p><p>“Wilbur, let the kid go,” said the other, drawing both gazes over to where he stood, arms crossed and pointy ears twitching occasionally (most likely from the annoyance painted across his face), “You’re gonna make him cry.”</p><p>“‘M not gonna cry! ‘M a big boy, only babies cry,” Tommy exclaimed, lip jutting out as he wriggled out of Wilbur’s grasp.</p><p>Wilbur rolled his eyes, huffing when a knobby elbow hit him in the stomach. “Right, well then Techno, you make sure he doesn’t hit his head and die.”</p><p>“That’s a ‘tupid name,” Tommy announced, finally making it to the floor safely. A proud grin blessed his face as he hurried towards Techno (completely ignoring his response of, “You’re a stupid name.”). Tommy looked  as he reached with grabby hands at Techno’s head. “C’I touch your hair?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Please?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Pleease?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Pleeease?”</p><p>“Phil better be back soon.”</p><p>“Why should Phil be back soon?”</p><p>The door creaked open, letting open a cool breeze that made all three boys shiver where they stood. In the doorway was a large shadow. For a moment, Tommy cowed, shrinking back until the light of the fire ripped the darkness away. Tommy’s green, winged savior appeared in the doorway. He glanced up at where the boys stood around the room, a smile making the edges of his eyes crinkle. </p><p>“Oh good, you’ve all met.”</p><p>“Phil, who’s the kid?” Wilbur asked, pointedly ignoring Tommy’s protests.</p><p>“That,” Phil began, hanging his hat on a hook by the door as he shut it behind him and sighed in the warmth, “Is Tommy.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>